


One of Those Nights

by stuffjohnwatsonsbelly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Bloating, Body insecurity, Hand Jobs, John is a bit insecure, John stuffs himself full, M/M, Morning After, Some unexpected feels midway through, Stuffing, and Sherlock helps, belly stuffing kink, but they're alright in the end, followed by some body worship, overeating kink, sex while stuffed, stuffing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffjohnwatsonsbelly/pseuds/stuffjohnwatsonsbelly
Summary: Tonight John felt the need to grow huge and heavy burn like fire deep in his gut. He wanted Sherlock’s hands to feel him swell. He wanted to push his belly out until it could burst, and then rub it and push it out fuller even more.John left his eyes closed and reached down and traced one finger gently up the curve of his belly, slowly from his navel and up to his chest. Sherlock knew it was a silent invitation. Before John knew it, he had another glass of water being thrust into his hands.“More,” Sherlock groaned into his ear.





	One of Those Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I have finally convinced myself to post the porn I write for myself for all of you to enjoy as well. 
> 
> If the tags feel like your jam, then sit back, relax, and *enjoy*. If the tags do not feel like your jam, please just move right along and let us enjoy our kinks in peace.
> 
> My highest praise and regard goes to my stuffing queen, [annabagnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/works/) . If any of my words in here sound vaguely like her own, it's probably because I've read her works 104,892 times. Plus, there's only so many words you can use to describe a full belly, you know? She's a goddess and deserving of all praise. Amen.
> 
> Have fun :)

John was restless. He paced from the living room into the kitchen, then back towards the sofa, then back into the kitchen. His body felt off, and his gut felt tired from holding in his stomach all day. He stopped in front of the kitchen sink and filled up a glass of water, then stood there holding it in his hand.

Suddenly Sherlock came up behind him and wrapped his arms around John’s middle. They stood there for a minute with Sherlock’s cheek against John’s hair. Then slowly Sherlock’s hands shifted to underneath John’s jumper, and John leaned back against him, giving a silent ok.

Sherlock ran his fingers over the tightly held-in skin around John’s middle, feeling the places where it wanted to bulge outward. “Is it one of those nights?” he asked.

John hummed and nodded. He leaned back even further. “I think so.”

All day he’d felt bloated and swollen, too big for his clothes and uncomfortable in his skin. He also hadn’t felt full enough, like his body was two sizes too small.

Sherlock rubbed underneath his jumper from his hips up to his chest. “Let it out,” he whispered. “Come on, let me see.”

The air in the room was changing into something enticing and warm. John thought one last time about how insane this was – how weird or inappropriate or sick. Then he shook his head against his thoughts as Sherlock pinched the soft skin of his tummy, and with a sigh he let the tight muscles in his stomach go lax. His stomach surged out ahead of him, bulging into Sherlock’s hands and rounding out full.

Sherlock moaned behind him and pressed his whole palms against John’s stomach. There already wasn’t very much give, and John shivered. Sherlock cupped John’s new belly in his hands. “You’re already so big today,” he whispered.

John looked down at the sight of himself, straining out underneath his jumper and hiding his legs from view. Sherlock’s hands disappeared beneath it, holding it up. It was an incredible relief to feel his skin stretch outward. To feel like his body was finally the right shape.

“Do you want to grow?” Sherlock asked.

John reached down over his rounding stomach and pulled up his jumper from the bottom, slowly dragging the fabric up over his stretching skin until it rested on the crest of his belly, leaving his skin bare. The hairs on his stomach stood on end and shivered underneath Sherlock’s hands. He wanted to watch himself grow huge and tight, bursting and full until his body couldn’t swell anymore. Until Sherlock couldn’t reach the tip of his belly from behind.

John dipped his finger into the dip of his navel and groaned at the pressure. He needed this. Badly. He nodded yes leaning back against Sherlock, and Sherlock leaned down to kiss him on his cheek with a grin. “Excellent.”

-

“Water first.”

Sherlock held out a glass for John and then leaned back against the counter. John blushed when he saw the hungry look in Sherlock’s eyes. They’d never really talked about any of this. Not out loud, at least. One day Sherlock had come home a day early from a case on a night when John had been locked away in their bedroom, shamefully indulging himself in secret. Not looking at his own face in the mirror. And when Sherlock had called for him to come out and hear about the case, John had thrown on his biggest jumper and tried to suck it in and practically waddled out into the living room, trying to hide his discomfort as he kissed Sherlock hello. Sherlock had taken one look at him and grabbed his arm before John could quickly back away, and he’d stared at the poorly hidden bulge of John’s belly underneath his jumper. And just when John thought he would die of hot embarrassment, Sherlock had backed him into the wall and groaned loudly and kissed John deeply, pushing his flat stomach up against his and moaning John’s name into his mouth.

So no, they’d never really talked about it.

Now Sherlock reached out and drew John towards him by the hips. John let himself be led as he brought the glass to his lips and started to take long, slow gulps. He felt Sherlock push up the fabric of his jumper again to rest on the top of his stomach, and then Sherlock pulled him close enough that his bare stomach touched the front of Sherlock’s white button up shirt. He could feel the cold buttons on his exposed skin, slowly pushing harder against him as he drank.

He drained the glass, and Sherlock quickly refilled it. John could see as he drank that Sherlock was looking down at both of their stomachs, watching as John’s slowly filled out more against his. Sherlock pulled him gently closer by his hips, close enough that John’s stomach started to pang a little as it pressed inwards from the pressure.

John was just finishing his third glass when he felt Sherlock’s hands start to rub at his straining sides, rubbing along the length of his jutting out stomach which felt warm and heavy with water. His belly pushed harder against Sherlock’s each time he drew in a breath, and the top curve of his stomach felt tight and packed as the water slowly worked its way down further into his body.

Sherlock held John’s hips and started to turn him gently from side to side, so that John’s hanging belly brushed back and forth across Sherlock’s shirt. The fabric and buttons tingled against his sensitive skin, and John could feel the water sloshing through him as he moved, pushing his skin out tighter as it settled. He looked down at his stomach cresting away from him into a point and groaned at the sight of himself, bare and exposed against Sherlock’s flat, clothed stomach. It sent a strange heat up his spine – one he still wasn’t used to, even after all this time.

Sherlock took John’s fourth drained glass from his hands and turned him around before pulling John backwards against him. John reached his arms up and let Sherlock pull off his jumper, then leaned back against him and closed his eyes as Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s chest, getting used to the feeling of being completely exposed. 

Sherlock didn’t touch his belly, waiting until John felt ready. There were some nights where John couldn’t go on past this point. Where the shame of knowing what he must look like, swollen and round and filling his skin, would become too much to bear. When he would slink away and throw on a giant pullover and lay on his stomach with his eyes shut tight until he knew he could sit up and not look down at a huge belly hanging off his front. And on those nights Sherlock would leave him alone for a while, just long enough for John to feel like “John” again. And then he would come to him and lead him back out into their flat, where they’d go about their business and watch a good movie and neither one would touch John’s stomach again.

Tonight, though. Tonight John felt the need to grow huge and heavy burn like fire deep in his gut. He wanted Sherlock’s hands to feel him swell. He wanted to push his belly out until it could burst, and then rub it and push it out fuller even more.

John left his eyes closed and reached down and traced one finger gently up the curve of his belly, slowly from his navel and up to his chest. Sherlock knew it was a silent invitation. Before John knew it, he had another glass of water being thrust into his hands. “More,” Sherlock groaned into his ear. John leaned back against Sherlock’s warm chest and began to drink, sighing and willing the muscles in his belly to stay loose as Sherlock rubbed his palm along the side of John’s stomach.

John’s belly started to ache as he drank the water slowly, letting each swallow settle before tipping his head back for more. He let himself completely relax against Sherlock, curving his back and pushing his belly forward in front of him into the room as it swelled. Completely exposed and cresting away from his body in a round, growing curve.

He looked down between swallows at Sherlock’s hands cupping his belly. They rubbed the sides of his stretching skin, and disappeared underneath John’s gut to hold the heavy weight of it, and dipped into his sensitive navel before tracing up towards the top of his growing bulge. Sherlock’s hands seemed like they were everywhere at once, rubbing and caressing this solid growing mass that felt like it wasn’t even a part of John’s body anymore.

John handed the empty glass back to Sherlock and cupped his groaning belly in his hands, feeling how much rounder it was beneath his palms. His skin was tight and hot. He resisted the urge to lean forward and suck it in and instead took a deep breath and loosened his muscles even more, watching his belly stretch even further as it pushed forward.

“Christ, John, look at you,” Sherlock whispered from over his shoulder. John felt Sherlock’s growing erection firm and warm in the dip of his lower back. Sherlock covered John’s hands with his own and pressed, groaning when John’s skin didn’t have much give. “Think of how full you want to be,” he said. “How full and huge and heavy you can grow.”

John’s cock was starting to ache in his pants. He cleared his throat and grunted out, “more.”

-

John took Sherlock’s hand and followed him into the bedroom. He slowed down and gasped when he caught sight of himself in a mirror, huge and waddling with his belly swaying heavily out in front of him. He wrapped one arm gently around his stomach and held it as he walked, wincing slightly as his stretched skin ached under the unfamiliar strain. It moved as a solid mass in front of him, not jiggling like his normal soft tummy but instead stretched taut and round. The sight of himself – bare and indulgent and bursting – made him want to simultaneously cover himself and also caress his full belly with his hands. Feel what he’d done to himself under his palms.

Sherlock looked back at him waiting, one hand holding his and the other arm balancing a full plate of leftovers and a liter of soda water. John held a hand to his belly, feeling the solid, warm skin, and watched in the mirror as his fingers stretched around the new curve of his stomach. His heart beat madly in his chest, and he squeezed Sherlock’s hand.

He wanted to grow.

He let Sherlock fawn over him a bit when they finally reached the bedroom, helping him reach down around his ungainly belly to change into soft sweatpants before easing him gently down on pillows against the headboard. John crossed his legs and leaned back, looking down at his belly hanging down over the tops of his thighs, cresting even more as each breath strained his lungs.

Sherlock sat across from him and held a brimming over plate of leftover pasta in his hand, fork poised halfway to John’s mouth. John took a deep breath, letting his stomach rest, and then he nodded. Sherlock grinned.

He fed him the warm pasta bite by bite, and John left his hands to gently rub down around the lowest curve of his belly as he chewed and swallowed. He could feel the curve of his stomach against his forearms, and when he looked down his packed upper stomach came to a point below his chest. The food joined the water already swelling his stomach and started to gradually settle lower in his gut, pushing out the bottom of his belly further and further into his waiting hands. The only sounds in the room were the quiet noises of his chewing, and the slight moans and gasps for breath John made as each bite of food forced itself into his already packed stomach.

When Sherlock was halfway through feeding him, John held up a hand to pause. He looked down and held his aching belly in both hands, lightly rubbing his fingers along his stretched skin to try and soothe it. He reached around to try and feel his navel, stretched tight and round from the pressure of the churning mass of food and water in his stomach. 

He groaned. He realized he’d never seen his belly this hard and swollen before. The skin was pale white, and was starting to itch where it stretched the most along his sides to accommodate the heavy weight of his growing belly. 

“God, Sherlock,” he whispered.

Sherlock’s hands joined his on his tight middle, resting over the fullest part of his belly and dipping one of his thumbs into John’s sensitive navel. He pressed lightly, causing John to wince and the skin stretched over his belly to pull tighter. “You want to be fuller,” he said low. He held John’s gaze. “Let me fill you. Let me help you get so huge you can’t move. So perfectly round and filled.”

John sucked in a breath and his skin flushed pink. He held out a hand. “Help me up.”

Sherlock helped him to haul himself up to his knees, so his belly hung full and heavy out in front of him, no longer with the support from his thighs. He leaned forward and grasped his stomach as the food and water resettled, causing pain to radiate through his massive gut. He moaned as the pain peaked and then passed, then looked back towards the ceiling and took another full, deep breath, willing his muscles to loosen and stretch. He held his sides as he breathed, feeling his belly stretch fuller beneath his hands.

He nodded at Sherlock. “Ok.”

John rubbed along the swollen bottom of his belly as Sherlock fed him smaller bites by hand, fingers brushing slowly across his lips as he chewed and swallowed. He felt bloated and slow, unable to do anything more except lean back and feel himself grow beneath his hands. He let Sherlock gently press bite after bite of pasta and red sauce between his lips. He looked down and moaned at the sight of his belly, packed full and covered in stretched white skin, pushing out further from his body than he’d ever seen it before. Each breath shot pain through his tight upper belly as his lungs strained against the extra weight. The food was starting to churn hot and lethargically, increasing the heavy pressure behind his stretched navel.

He chewed the last few bites extra slowly, waiting for each bite to settle so his belly had time to pack more into its solid mass. By the time Sherlock placed the last piece of pasta between his lips, John audibly moaned as he swallowed. He leaned forward, cupping his belly gently with both hands as it ached, creaking and packed tight with liquid and food.

“I feel huge,” he said. John caught sight of the flaming heat in Sherlock’s eyes and said something he never thought he’d have the courage to say. He groaned and pushed his belly out farther into the room, holding it up from below with one hand while the other hand rubbed back and forth over the top, caressing himself like he was pregnant. “Look at how full I am,” he said with heavy lidded eyes. “Look at this huge belly hanging off me. Look how full –”

Sherlock’s lips were on his in an instant, kissing him deeply as his hands joined John’s. Sherlock groaned into his mouth as he suddenly dipped his finger deep into John’s navel, making John flinch with the ache. His belly was stretched too taut to suck it in, and he surrendered hopelessly as Sherlock poked and rubbed into his aching navel while attacking his mouth with his lips and tongue.

Finally Sherlock pulled back. “Fucking drink this,” he said, thrusting the liter of soda water into John’s hands.

John didn’t hesitate.

He unscrewed the cap, tipped back his head so his belly pushed out and hung even lower, and started to drink in large, slow gulps. The soda water fizzed down his throat and instantly expanded in his stomach. He could feel his belly start to immediately swell under the pressure, filling his already packed stomach to the point of bursting. Just when his stomach felt too exposed in the room, he felt Sherlock’s hands start to caress it eagerly. They rubbed his stretched tight skin in large circles, covering every inch of his belly and cupping his roundness with his hands as John drank. The swish of Sherlock’s hands rubbing over his skin was deafening in the room, mixed with John’s quiet grunts and groans as he forced swallow after swallow of soda water into his filled stomach.

It ached. He paused after around a third of the bottle and clapped a hand to the hot skin of his belly, groaning loudly. His belly creaked under the weight of the food and liquid he’d packed into it, and he felt lightheaded as he tried to breathe against the heavy strain of the alien belly hanging off his front.

He’d never seen himself so round. So packed and tight – skin cresting in a perfectly full curve. He tilted his head back and sighed as Sherlock leaned down and kissed the tightest part of his stomach. 

“Yes,” John whispered. He panted for breath beneath Sherlock’s lips. “Fuck, yes . . .”

He raised the bottle back to his mouth and continued, fighting past the aching clenching of his belly as it tried to resist the addition of anything more. He held the liter bottle with both hands, letting his belly hang free and heavy in front of him into Sherlock’s eager hands. They rubbed over the tight crest of his rounded stomach, lightly scratched his stretched sides and traced around his navel.

Sherlock’s breathing was loud and raspy. John’s stomach was stretched unbelievably full, jutting out and tight against Sherlock’s palms. The pressure under his skin was immense, making him feel almost unable to move as every inch of his belly filled and expanded, swelling until his stretched thin skin couldn’t grow any tighter or rounder.

Finally, after another third of the bottle went down, John stopped and gasped for breath, setting it down on the bedside table.

He was done.

John looked down helplessly at the heaving mass of his belly below him. Quivering and taut and full to bursting beneath Sherlock’s gentle touch as he caressed it lovingly in his hands. John laid his hands slowly on either side of his aching, bloated body, feeling how huge and heavy he’d made himself. Feeling what he’d done to his body.

He moaned and rubbed fruitlessly back and forth at his skin. “Too big,” he grunted out. “I’m too big. Look at this . . .my belly . . .”

Sherlock’s hands were on his shoulders, guiding him back with a grunt until he was once again leaning back against the headboard with his stomach resting hot and heavy on his thighs. John whimpered when Sherlock reached around the swollen curve of his belly and below the waistband of his sweatpants, grasping his half-hard cock in his hand and pumping it quickly back to hardness. 

“Tell me how full you are,” he whispered.

John cupped his belly in both hands, looking down at it helplessly as it stretched and heaved with his breathing. He held it like he would burst, shivering at the slow heat of Sherlock’s hand on his cock.

“I’m too full,” he moaned, catching his breath as Sherlock thumbed across his dripping slit. “I’m massive. Too fucking huge.” John ran his hands along the full curve of his belly, starting from his chest, and whimpered at how far out his belly pushed. “My belly. . .” he moaned. “This belly. . . too full. . . Can’t move –”

He cut off his last words with a cry as he suddenly came in Sherlock’s hand, pleasure and aching pain rolling through his body as his orgasm pulled on his cramping stomach. The dual sensations drew his orgasm out so long John thought he might not be able to breathe. When it finally started to fade from his body he grabbed his belly weakly with both hands and sighed, rubbing thickly at his aching weight.

Sherlock was up on his knees before him, eyes fixed on John’s hands clutching at his bloated, stuffed belly as he pumped his own cock in his pants. It only took a few long pulls before he was coming with his own cry, eyes still blown wide staring at John’s aching belly resting full in his hands.

John sighed and leaned back against the headboard after Sherlock came. The feeling he hated was starting to creep in – where after his orgasm was over, and the pleasurable endorphins were starting to fade, and all he felt was fat and slow and dirty.

Sherlock knew what to do. Before John could ask for it Sherlock was raising his hands to slide on a large t-shirt over his expanded frame, then helping John settle with a grunt onto his side, covering him with the heavy duvet. He ducked into the bathroom for a few minutes, getting ready for bed and changing into his own t-shirt and pants, before crawling in across from John. John buried his face in the pillow and tried to fight it off, willing himself to feel hidden and safe in the circle of Sherlock’s arms. He tried to forget about the giant curve of his belly resting in between them, rising with his breathing and pushing out against the stretched fabric of the t-shirt Sherlock had given him.

Sherlock’s face was pressed into John’s hair, and neither of them touched anywhere near John’s still full to bursting belly. “I love you,” Sherlock whispered, and John bit his lip with emotion. “Love you too.”

-

John woke in the morning to an empty bed. He was curled on his side under a mountain of covers. He gently moved his hand down towards his middle, and felt with a grimace how far out his belly spilled before him onto the sheets, still hard and round and bloated the morning after. The bottom part of his stomach was firm and warm as it tried to digest everything from the night before, and the top part of his stomach was starting to grow puffy and soft.

He hated it. With a groan John heaved himself up to sitting and pulled himself from the bed. He tried to look away, but he still caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bedroom door and stopped in his tracks. His t-shirt ballooned outward in front of him, swaying over the curve of his belly as he walked. He slowly clapped a hand to the bottom curve of his stomach so that his t-shirt plastered over the full curve of his form, then watched as his breathing made his belly rise and fall, straining against the shirt. He pulled the bottom of the fabric up and looked down.

Last night he’d felt stretched and tight and huge – ready to burst. Completely full and packed and thrumming with warmth and the desire to grow even fuller. To see how far he could push into Sherlock’s waiting hands.

Now, standing alone in the dim light of their bedroom, all John felt was fat and pudgy and completely unattractive. His belly which had been so beautifully round and taut the night before now hung out in front of him in a jiggling, heavy mass.

John grunted and threw his t-shirt back down to cover himself, then pulled on another large jumper before walking out into the living room, making sure his steps weren’t too heavy so his belly wouldn’t move. 

Sherlock was at the kitchen table with two steaming mugs of tea, pouring over case notes from the day before. He smiled, and John tried to do the same as he took his mug and went to stand by the windows. John stood there drinking, trying to find the best way to move his muscles so that his stomach was sucked in close to flat, when Sherlock came up suddenly behind him, wrapping his arms around John’s chest and taking the mug of tea from his hands.

“Sherlock –” John warned.

Sherlock kissed the side of his neck. “I don’t have anything on today, do you?” he asked.

John shook his head, leaning back against Sherlock and pulling in his stomach as best he could, trying to breathe normally.

Suddenly Sherlock’s hands were traveling further down John’s stomach, and John tensed. 

“Why are you holding it in?” Sherlock whispered. He rested his hands along the lowest part of John’s belly, the part of his stomach that he couldn’t suck in flat no matter how hard he tried. It bulged underneath Sherlock’s hands, puffing out his two layers of shirts.

John sighed. “It doesn’t look. . . good,” he finally said.

Sherlock rubbed over the small curve with his thumbs. “It’s not good to hold it in,” he said gently. “Let it out for me.” The air in the room was changing. “Please,” he added.

John shivered. They never did this. Usually months went by in between nights like last night, and they had never ever done it during the day. Sherlock continued to cup the bottom of his belly in his hands. “Please, John,” he whispered. “Just let yourself be.”

John moaned and finally let out his stomach, groaning as it ballooned under his shirt and expanded beneath Sherlock’s hands. Sherlock watched his belly grow from over John’s shoulder and let out his own soft moan, rubbing slowly over John’s heavy, low curve.

“Don’t you want to be full again?” he whispered. He dipped his hands up under John’s shirts, rubbing over his bare skin. “You want to be full and tight again,” he said. “I know you do. You want to be so round.”

Sherlock’s hands felt incredible rubbing his belly. They soothed the skin that had been stretched the night before, and calmed the churning in his gut as he continued to digest the mass he’d consumed. John looked down at the mass of his belly cresting away from his body under his shirt and moaned as Sherlock’s hands continued to caress it. He nodded against Sherlock’s chest. “Yes.”

-

Sherlock placed three huge mugs of warmed milk on the coffee table, then drew John down to sit resting back against him, between his legs. John realized with a shiver that they could perfectly see themselves in a mirror. Before Sherlock could hand him the first full mug John leaned forward and pulled off his shirts, shivering once as the cool air in the flat hit his bare skin. Sherlock did the same behind him, and when John leaned back he felt cocooned in Sherlock’s warmth. He willed himself to fully relax, and watched with lidded eyes as his belly stretched out before him, waiting to be filled.

Sherlock silently handed him the first mug, and John slowly began to drink. They flipped on the telly, watching whatever random show Sherlock found. John was halfway through the first mug when he could feel his stomach start to protest. It churned and lurched a bit in front of him, and the top of his belly started to round out again. The milk felt warm and heavy as it settled in his still-packed stomach. He arched his back and pushed out his belly, trying to make more room.

Sherlock’s hands slowly rubbed him, and John watched mesmerized between sips as Sherlock’s fingers caressed his pale, growing skin. He moved on to the second mug, taking a moment to breathe deeply and willing his stomach to settle. Sherlock suddenly grabbed his belly and shook it once hard, and John groaned when his belly didn’t have much room to jiggle. It moved as a single tight mass. It felt perfect.

He lazily wrapped his other arm around the bottom of his belly and pushed it up, rounding it out even more as he filled himself with more long swallows of milk. Sherlock’s breathing quickened behind him. He began to whisper in John’s ear with a deep voice. “Think of how heavy you are,” he said, clutching John’s heaving belly as he drank. “You’ve never gotten so huge in your life. Never been so full for so long.”

John drained the last swallow of the second mug and grimaced as the milk slowly forced its way into his aching belly. Suddenly he remembered the mirror, and he looked up, desperate to see himself. His belly was stretched tightly forward, pushing underneath his skin and more round along the bottom than John had ever seen it before. He felt swollen and ripe, and Sherlock’s hands continued to rub over his pale, exposed skin.

Sherlock caught John looking at himself in the mirror, and before John could protest Sherlock was yanking him to his feet. John clutched at his belly as it swung out ahead of him, hanging well below his hips where it bulged out the most. His skin stretched painfully to hold up his weight, and he felt his lungs burn as he tried to breathe through the cramps that rolled through his gut. 

Sherlock turned him to the side and stood behind him, so that John could look sideways into the mirror and see how far out his belly stuck before him. He arched his back more. His belly didn’t even look like it was a part of him anymore. “Jesus,” he whispered.

Sherlock handed him the third full mug, placing it in both of John’s hands. “Drink,” he commanded.

John did. He raised it to his lips and started to gulp, shivering when Sherlock’s hands reached around to the very tip of his belly, pushing his skin painfully against the pressure in his stomach and dipping inside the sensitive skin in his navel. John’s belly hung painfully out in front of him, swelling even more with each swallow of milk, pushing out and aching as it tried to make room to grow even fuller.

He paused and looked to the side. He was perfectly round. Sherlock’s hands dipped below the lowest curve of his belly and held some of his weight. John looked down and only saw a vast expanse of white skin. He touched his stretched side with trembling fingers and groaned at the feeling of himself, taut and hot and aching. He kept his hand there and continued to drink, feeling his belly stretch beneath his hand with every swallow.

Sherlock whispered in his ear. “I want to see you like this all day,” he said. “So huge and round. I want you to waddle with your belly when you walk.” John whimpered and continued to drink. Sherlock swirled around his navel, causing pleasure and pain to spike in John’s groin.

“You can barely stand, can’t you?” Sherlock moaned. “Can’t even leave the flat. You’re too full. People would think you’re pregnant. Your belly will bump into things as you try to walk, won’t it? Hang low over your pants, press against the counter when you cook. You won’t even be able to see over it, will you? Just see how huge you are.”

John forced down the last swallow of milk and threw back his head, groaning at the sharp pain as his belly continued to bloat. He looked sideways at himself and gasped.

“Look at what you did to yourself,” Sherlock said. “Made yourself stretched full. So round.” Sherlock reached around until his fingertips barely met at the farthest crest of John’s belly. “Christ, John. Look at you.”

John’s skin was tingling with pleasure. He waddled to turn around and face Sherlock, clutching at his belly as he moved, and then brought Sherlock’s face down to kiss him hungrily, pressing his giant mass of a belly up against the flat plane of Sherlock’s stomach. He kissed him for a long time, feeling their bodies and skin brush up against one another.

When John finally pulled back, Sherlock smiled down at him with such tenderness it made John’s chest ache. They both looked down at his stomach in between them. John cradled it with both hands, gently rubbing at his stretched skin, and Sherlock did the same, feeling the full curve of John’s belly from his navel down to his hips. It felt wonderful – enjoying the fulness of his belly together in their flat, right in the light of day like it wasn’t anything bad at all. 

Finally John pressed a last kiss to Sherlock’s lips and stepped back. Sherlock reached for John’s jumper lying on the couch to hand to him, but John waved it away. Instead he turned and walked towards the kitchen, letting his belly hang full and heavy ahead of him as he loosened his muscles, feeling the delicious way it waddled as it led the way into the room. He moaned for full effect as he moved, then turned to the side and rubbed along his full belly for Sherlock to see.

“Come on then, help me make breakfast,” he said. 

Sherlock blinked hard, then his face stretched into a beautiful smile. “Breakfast sounds perfect,” he replied.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't obvious, this is a new stuffing porn side account for me. I've never posted my stuffing writing before, so I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I have a stuffing / bloating series in mind that I've already started writing and will start posting soon, so keep an eye out. Thanks for reading! Happy orgasms.


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